Restless Heart Syndrome
by Fried Cheesecake
Summary: Ludwig Beilschmidt, distant station manager with a crushing sob story, is being fucked over by life, and Alfred F. Jones, broadcast journalist and New York's TV sweetheart, isn't helping at all. /Germerica modern AU.


originally posted on my tumblr

* * *

**I**

He scratches at his chin, stares at the computer; a blank email awaits his answer. Management is tired of the cooking segment on Sundays and they want him to agree to fire his boyfriend.

_Knock knock_.

"Hey boss!" The door opens, bumping the plant that sits in the corner. Blue eyes peer in.

"Alfred," he sighs. "What is it?"

"Meeting's about to start."

Another sigh. "Of course." Ludwig saves the email as a draft. "I'll be there."

**II**

"I knew you always had it in for him," Lovino Vargas growls the next morning over a cup of coffee- _real coffee_, he says, _not the crap Alfred buys_. Ludwig blinks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't play dumb with me." He drains the cup, throws it off to the side and Ludwig catches a whiff of alcohol. "My brother. You fired his ass."

He feels his throat clamp up. "I didn't- management-"

Lovino scoffs. "You could've said no, you bastard! That Edelstein is a pussy, sitting in his lofty office in Manhattan, and we're all stuck in this piss poor dump! He's a pansy. He'd have listened to you. And isn't he your cousin or something?"

Lovino pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "Fucking German."

**III**

The phone rings later. He's sitting in the kitchen force-feeding his brother when he hears it. Gilbert's only spitting everything out anyways, so he staggers into the hall and fumbles around in the dark for the phone.

"Hello?"

"Ludwig~…"

A voice has never sounded so sweet.

"F- Feliciano," he gasps. The apartment is silent- save the accented voice which rings through his ears and strikes the chimes of his heart.

It isn't so painful as he thought it would be; they talk, and Ludwig forgets for a moment that he ever put Feli out of a job. He clutches the phone in his sweaty hands. He smiles for the first time in two days. It's not until Feliciano hangs up that his heart breaks again, and the ache is even worse than before.

Gilbert cries for him from the kitchen; he races to his brother's side, tries to decipher the garbled noises that Gilbert murmurs. He puts the phone call out of his mind. For now.

**IV**

"Boss, you left your keys in the break room," Alfred exclaims, dangling said keys in front of his face. Ludwig snaps back to reality.

"Of course," he murmurs, and takes the keys. "Thank you."

Alfred F. Jones, face of New York City, leans against the wall and knocks his foot against the potter of the plant that sits in the corner. _(It's looking sick. He really should water it.)_ He's hesitant. "You all right, boss?" he asks in the same loud voice. Ludwig examines him.

"Fine," he says curtly, turning back to his computer. "Get back to work, Alfred. It's almost time for the evening broadcast."

**V**

He doesn't realize just who Arthur Kirkland is until Kiku tells him the answer in the break room one afternoon.

"With Alfred?" Elizabeta exclaims. Ludwig doesn't speak to her much anymore, though they've worked together for years. She was Gilbert's girlfriend, and then after the accident she dumped him in a wheelchair and married his cousin. He doesn't remember, but he thinks she and Roderich are divorced now. "Really?"

Kiku looks decidedly uncomfortable. "Alfred would probably not want everyone to know," he says quietly. "Please, both of you, refrain from spreading this around."

"I just didn't know that he was gay," Elizabeta muses. "But now that I think about it, they would look good together."

Ludwig stares into his coffee mug. Isn't Arthur a raging alcoholic or something? Who let him become a police officer? Better yet, who hired him to go on live television as the face of the NYPD?

"Speaking of gay guys," Elizabeta exclaims, turning to Ludwig. He sighs. "What's up with you and Feliciano?"

Kiku knows the story; he politely excuses himself.

"I fired him," Ludwig mumbles sorely. Elizabeta snorts.

"Well, I know that much. But are you two still together or what?"

He feels her beady eyes watching him. His heart thumps. "It's over, Eliza."

"What? But I thought-"

"I don't want to talk about it." He throws his mug into the sink and leaves the room.

**VI**

They drag him to the bar after work to celebrate the end of a crazy week. He spends most of his time in the corner of the room, worrying about Gilbert, aching for Feliciano and watching Arthur and Alfred make out in the next booth over. He doesn't end up drinking that much; it's American beer after all, and even though he's lived in New York his whole life, a visit to his grandparents in Göttingen when he was sixteen forever refined his taste buds.

At one point, Francis and Yong Soo stumble over and loudly, drunkenly, argue over whether Alfred or Arthur tops. Alfred stutters and blushes in a way that lets everyone know that he's still a virgin, at least with Arthur. The latter pulls him down for another kiss.

**VII**

"Funny seeing you here," Alfred says awkwardly. Ludwig glances at him. "I mean, how often do you run into your boss at the hospital?"

"My brother," he grunts. "He's here for a check-up." Alfred raises an eyebrow. "He was in an accident," Ludwig adds. "He's in a wheelchair now. Brain damage."

"Oh." Alfred doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm here for my brother too."

Alfred doesn't say, and Ludwig doesn't ask.

**VIII **

Gilbert sits quietly in the corner of the room, staring at the brace on his wrist. He can't speak anymore; they tried to teach him sign language at the clinic, but he struggles to even move his fingers, so they gave up on that too.

But it's hard. Ludwig has to treat him like a child, and he's nearly thirty. The doctors said that it's not that Gilbert can't form words, but rather that he simply can't get those words across. He's trapped, is what that means. Gilbert always had a vivid imagination, and was constantly expressing himself loudly; now he's resigned to grunts and moans, eye signals and occasional jerks of the hands.

Their house is loud on the best of days. It's only when his brother gets frustrated at himself that he remains silent.

**IX**

"Good evening, New York, I'm Alfred F. Jones and tonight we share with you new developments on the war on terror…"

Ludwig leans back in his chair. He stares at his phone. _This number has been disconnected_. Feliciano. Kiku says they went back to Italy. Ludwig believes him, but he wishes he didn't.

"Hello," a quiet voice says suddenly. Ludwig snaps his phone shut and glances up. Heracles stands in the doorway, smiling lightly. Alfred's voice drifts in from the studio.

"Heracles. Something I can help you with?"

The man in question holds up a sheet of paper. "I have some things to discuss with you."

"Well, come in," Ludwig sighs. Heracles shuts the door and sits down.

"I don't know if you've heard," he begins. "But Arthur handed in his resignation as police correspondent."

Ludwig raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

Heracles nods. "Mmhm. The chief of police just called. They're looking for someone to replace him."

Ludwig rubs his forehead. "They'd better find someone soon," he murmurs. He glances around the room, and his eyes land on the plant in the corner. The leaves are drooping. It's nearly dead.

**X**

He's at dinner with the bigwigs from management when he gets the call.

It's Emma- Gilbert's caretaker. She speaks slowly over the phone, and Ludwig quietly listens.

And then he's struck by Emma's words, and he cries for the first time in years.

**XI**

Elizabeta is the only one who shows up for the funeral. Roderich called, gave his condolences and the excuse of a meeting in Philadelphia, saying that he was _terribly sorry, Ludwig, but I simply can't miss this conference, it's of utmost importance to the company_. The estranged cousin on the other side of the family somehow finds out about this and sends a letter of sympathy with his five year old daughter's signature scribbled inside.

They stand together at the gravesite. The usual New York sun has disappeared behind clouds, and summer rain falls on the black umbrella Elizabeta carries. Ludwig regrets that he was not able to have a preacher at the services; Gilbert was always religious, even if his little brother never shared his beliefs. Long after the funeral home director leaves, they stand together in the rain, staring at the coffin and the hole in the earth where it will soon be buried.

Ludwig returns the next day and realizes that in his grief he has forgotten to purchase a grave marker. Gilbert is only a mound of dirt.

**XII**

He goes back to work ten days later. He's tired of sitting on the sofa staring at Gilbert's empty wheelchair. His office hasn't been dusted since he left. That's the first thing he does. The plant in the corner looks dead. He touches its wilted leaves, waters it generously, but it stays the same.

The door creaks open and Alfred steps in. "Hi," he says softly. "I heard about your brother. I'm sorry."

Ludwig nods and drops down into his chair. There's a small stack of papers on his desk.

"We took care of a lot of the paperwork for you," Alfred explains. "Those are just things that need your signature."

Ludwig runs his fingers over the papers. "Thank you, Alfred."

Alfred hesitates in the doorway, fingers hovering in midair- he leaves and closes the door. Ludwig is alone.

**XIV**

They meet again, at the hospital. Ludwig thanks the doctors for doing nothing and runs into Alfred in the hallway. Or… wait.

"Oh, sorry," the man says weakly. "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Ludwig pauses. It's Alfred, but it's not; he doesn't have hair. But the face and the glasses.

"No, it's my fault," Ludwig says quietly. He coughs into his hand. "I apologize."

"Hey Mattie, you left your-" Alfred stops cold at the sight of Ludwig. "Oh," he says in a small voice. Mattie turns around.

"Do you two know each other?" he asks curiously. Alfred chews his lip.

"Um, yeah. That's uh, that's my boss."

"Oh!" Mattie turns back to Ludwig. "Well, nice to meet you then. I'm Matthew. I'm Alfred's twin brother. And I'm older."

"Shut up," Alfred grumbles. Ludwig doesn't say anything.

**XV**

There's a letter in the mail postmarked from Venice.

He doesn't know how Feliciano heard about Gilbert; maybe Elizabeta or Kiku is still in touch with him. But Feli sends his regards and his sympathy. There's a long message on the inside, scrawled out in Feliciano's ostentatious cursive. He can't even read it.

He's grateful that someone took the time to tell Feliciano, and that Feli took the time to send a letter. But after Gilbert, he'd forgotten about everything that happened between him and the Italian, and this only brings back the heartache.

**XVI**

"He has cancer, in case you didn't get that."

Ludwig looks up from his computer. Alfred is still sitting there, stroking the dead leaves of the plant in the corner. Their mini meeting about recent budget cuts has been over for at least five minutes.

"I get it," Ludwig mumbles quietly. Alfred looks up.

"I figured," he sighs.

**XVII**

He can't recall when it starts, but one night he realizes that he's shown up at the same bar every evening for a few days now. He looks up from his drink, glances around as if seeing the place for the first time; is this what he's come to now? Is he so dependent on others that he can't go on by himself?

He pays for God knows how many drinks he's had and leaves.

**XVIII**

Alfred finds him that night, staggering through the dark to his empty apartment. They don't speak- just pass each other on the street, no eye contact, but the next day at work Alfred actually lectures him about drinking alone. It's not healthy, he says. When you have someone with you, they can keep track of how much you've had.

Ludwig knows he means well, but he can't see the point of keeping track.

**XIX**

A month later, Ludwig finds himself in the strangest predicament.

He was always struggling to keep up with rent, given that Gilbert's medical expenses were many and didn't come cheap; but now he's living in a two bedroom apartment by himself, unsure of what to do with the rest of his paycheck. Most of it goes in savings; for what, he's not quite sure.

He's gratefully surprised when he first makes this discovery, but it only takes a few moments before he remembers why he has extra cash now.

**XX**

Toris the cameraman is getting married, and the news studio is filled with a flurry of congratulations. They're all invited to the wedding; Ludwig contemplates not even showing up, but Elizabeta's fingers slowly curling around his throat make him change his mind. He is invited to bring a plus one, and that hurts a little bit, but it's been months since Feliciano departed and he's desperate to move on.

When Elizabeta interrogates Kiku about the girl that's he invited to the wedding, the conversation inevitably turns to everyone in the vicinity. Yong Soo brags about how he was the first to invite someone, while Francis insists that his date will be the best dressed. Elizabeta furtively skips over Ludwig and turns to Alfred, demanding to know if he's bringing Arthur to the wedding.

Alfred's reaction is not what Ludwig expects. He flushes a bit and coughs into his hand. "Um, no, actually," he says quietly, and Elizabeta raises her eyebrows. "We um- broke up. A while ago."

"Oh." Elizabeta shrinks in her seat a little, chewing on her lip. "Um. Sorry, Alfred."

He forces a smile. "That's okay."

Ludwig stares into his coffee, a little unnerved.

**XXI**

It happens at the wedding, weeks later.

Ludwig shows up without a guest, endures the ceremony and is about to ditch the reception when Elizabeta catches him by the arm and yanks him back inside. He ends up sitting in a corner and being uncomfortably more drunk than one should be at an employee's wedding. Elizabeta and Kiku make several attempts to cajole him into socializing, but he's not having any of that tonight, thank you.

He's content sitting by himself and downing more alcohol than most people can handle, but he makes the decision to leave after Yong Soo rips off his shirt and initiates another round of the Cupid Shuffle.

**XXII**

Of all people, it must be Alfred that he runs into in the parking lot.

**XXIII**

"You again," Alfred exclaims upon seeing him. "I keep seeing you everywhere. I think it might be a sign."

Ludwig stares at him quietly. Alfred is everywhere, all of a sudden, and he doesn't think that's okay.

"I feel like you might be stalking me," Alfred laughs, grinning in a way that only happens when one has had too much to drink. Ludwig doesn't say anything, and Alfred's face falls. "That was a joke," he whispers. "I don't really think you're stalking me."

"I might as well be," Ludwig says, finally blinking. Alfred blinks.

"What?"

"I'm going to do something really stupid now," Ludwig says, quieter. He moves in a little closer, blurry vision focused on Alfred's face. "I'm going to regret this later and maybe even get fired because of it."

Alfred blinks again, smiling now, reaches up and brushes a few loose strands of blond hair out of Ludwig's face. "Okay," Alfred says. "I'm drunk enough for this."

**XXIV**

Ludwig wakes up in a shitty motel room and throws up on the carpet.

"Why you?" he exclaims when he spies Alfred standing in the bathroom doorway. "And why- _fuck_- why did I- _fuck this, why everything_?

**XXV**

"I noticed you've been sad," Alfred says later. They're having breakfast at a crappy diner at lunchtime, and the only thing either of them can stomach is coffee. Alfred orders waffles anyways, while Ludwig stares forlornly at a piece of toast. "I mean, since your brother died."

Alfred doesn't soften his words. Ludwig stirs his coffee.

"How's your brother?" he asks. Alfred takes in a mouthful of whipped cream.

"Better," he says after he swallows. "Sometimes. I don't really know anything about cancer. I wanted to be a doctor," he continues, dragging his fork across the ridges of the waffle. "When I was a kid, you know, I also wanted to be an astronaut and a magician, but I actually did want to be a doctor. I took chemistry in high school just for that, and then I didn't even think about med school." He forces himself to eat solid food.

Ludwig sips at his coffee. "You ended up as a broadcast journalist."

Alfred shrugs. "College biology was boring. Film making was much more interesting. And how'd you end up as a station manager?"

"I was a business major," Ludwig says. "My advisor told me it was a good degree. My brother…" He trails off for a moment, remembering a time when Gilbert still had the facial muscles to smile. When Gilbert was still alive. "Before his accident, he was the breadwinner in our family. A computer programmer. He was shit at his job, but it paid well and he was going to put me through grad school so I could… I don't know. Do something with my life."

Alfred stares out the window. "My brother was going to do something with his life."

Ludwig waits silently.

"He used to teach for special ed. One summer when we were in high school, he and some of his friends went on this mission trip or something to somewhere in Africa, and they hung out with kids and played soccer with 'em, and whatever, and Matt really got a kick out of it. I can't really stand kids, to be honest, but all he talked about after that was becoming a teacher, so he went into special education because he already knew basic sign language and that was useful, I guess. I don't know." Alfred pushes his plate away and throws his napkin down on the table. "He's not really doing better. I don't know why I said that earlier. My parents came down a couple of weeks ago and they've been living with him at his house. The doctors told us to make him comfortable."

**XXVI**

They're driving back when Ludwig remembers the question he's always wanted to ask. "What happened to Arthur?" he exclaims at a traffic light. Alfred, in the driver's seat, gives him a sideways glance.

"What happened to Feliciano?"

"I fired him and he went back to Italy. What happened to Arthur?"

Alfred sighs, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "I don't know. I've known him half my life and he's been going through a lot of shit lately- I mean, aren't we all?- but. God, I don't know. I just didn't want to deal with him."

**XXVI**

He and Alfred don't speak to each other for a week after that night in the motel. But when they finally do, Alfred smiles at him and tells him that his brother is doing better, honestly this time.

**XXVII**

Okay. Okay.

It's going to be okay after all.

**XXVIII**

And then it's not, because Alfred's brother dies in his sleep and Alfred is at work when it happens and his parents are at the grocery store and his brother is alone and they come home to find him dead, and though Ludwig is not a part of this family he understands and he knows how it feels and he finds a substitute who will sit in for Alfred for as long as he needs.

He must be stronger than Ludwig because he only needs three days before he is once again smiling into the camera for the evening broadcast.

"He was getting better," Alfred says quietly when Ludwig approaches him on the studio floor off-air. They both accept the cups of coffee that an intern hands them. "But that doesn't mean it was unexpected. Maybe that's why he was feeling better. Or maybe he was feeling worse and he was lying to us. I'm never gonna know. But," Alfred pauses here, clinks his mug with Ludwig's, "Matt really liked coffee. So that's what I'm going to do. I'm gonna drink this fucking coffee. And then, because Matt also really liked staying up late to play video games, I'm gonna go kick ass on my fourth playthrough of Mass Effect. Care to join me?"

That's their second date.

**XXIX**

And so it is okay after all.

**XXX**

Of course, it's never really okay, because on their sixth date Ludwig wakes up in the middle of the night and finds Alfred sobbing over a picture of his brother, and when they go to Germany on vacation, Ludwig finds himself bitterly reminded of how his brother, a college student, couldn't handle beer nearly as well as he thought he could, and then when same-sex marriage is legalized in New York and Alfred pops the question, the one thing they both regret most is that their brothers won't be there to tease them on their wedding day, and then they do finally get married, and Feliciano and Arthur are both there, and they all make amends, and it's bittersweet, but Ludwig gets a promotion and Alfred gets a bad haircut once and Ludwig laughs at him for days, and they go camping on their weekends off in the summer, and Ludwig finally buys his brother a grave marker, and Alfred takes Ludwig to visit where his brother was eventually buried in Quebec, and Ludwig has to admit that he didn't know Alfred was half-Canadian, and they get a dog together, and then another, and then finally they get a baby and even though Alfred has never cared much for children, he says it's different with your own children, and their daughter chips a tooth in first grade, and her sixth grade birthday sleepover is so loud that Ludwig bans slumber parties forever, and when she graduates high school, she hugs her fathers and ends up in med school, and Ludwig and Alfred eventually retire to the suburbs of New York where they have a garden and two new dogs, _and so it's okay after all._


End file.
